A New Profile
by crosscountrychick13
Summary: Spencer Reid is undeniably attracted to the newest member of the BAU- Vivienne Bates, a young woman whose intellect and drive make her an asset to the team. The BAU cases remain gruesome and disturbing, and Reid questions how to cope with his job.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_First off, I'm a bit new to Criminal Minds. I love the show and have watched plenty of reruns, but rarely in consecutive order. I feel like I have a good enough grasp on the characters' personalities to write this, but I'm a bit fuzzy on background information. If anyone wants to fill me in on an in-depth (and accurate) character background, particularly of Reid, I'd really appreciate it. Second, most of the science/psychology/profiling in this story is mostly speculation and inference from watching this and other procedural cop shows, but it will always have potential to be inaccurate. However, I find the subject fascinating, so if anyone wants to lecture me on the details of it, again, I don't mind at all. Third, I know JJ was written out of the script in the sixth season. I want this story to be set as close to new episodes as possible (I'm not up-to-date on watching those), but JJ will stay in this story. Henry and Will are still involved, and will be mentioned. Finally, reviews of any kind are appreciated! Enjoy._

Chapter One

Spencer Reid sat at his desk in the BAU headquarters, playing solitaire and fidgeting with a pen. It was early on a Monday morning, and only Garcia and Rossi were there. Both were in their respective offices, so Reid savored the quiet moment. He reflected briefly on the case from last week- a man had killed his wife and two children after suffering a psychotic break due to being fired. As he often did, Reid pondered the frailty of the human mind.

His train of thought stopped when Morgan and Prentiss walked in, chuckling and talking about their weekend. Reid's had consisted of guest speaking at a local college, finishing one of many thesis papers, and writing a letter to his mother.

"Hey, kid, how you doing?" Morgan asked, swinging into his chair and letting it spin him to face his desk.

"Not bad," Reid replied absently, flipping another card. "You?"

"Good. Think JJ'll have something for us today?"

"Yeah, I think Rossi mentioned something earlier…" Reid glanced up to Rossi's closed office door.

"Morning, Reid," Prentiss said as she sat at her desk.

"Morning."

Morgan and Prentiss quickly picked back up their conversation, and Reid went back to his cards. A few moments later, Hotch strode in, scowling only slightly less than usual.

He gestured at the three agents in the bullpen. "Meeting room. JJ will be here in a moment for the briefing." When he was almost to the door, he turned around. "We have a new agent. She'll be starting today and assisting on this case."

Reid cocked his head slightly. He didn't know about a new agent. Morgan and Prentiss showed the same confusion, but Prentiss shrugged and moved towards the short stairs.

The three of them sat at the round table in the large room. Hotch, Garcia, and Rossi were already seated around the table. Next to Hotch was a young woman dressed in a light grey button-up shirt and black pants. Reid quickly evaluated the rest of her appearance, profiling her without realizing it.

A silver chain hung around her neck, with a very small, light green stone inset. There was no wedding ring, but a silver ring with a much darker green stone sat on her right hand. She was of medium height, trim, athletic build, with softly angled features. Medium length, wavy, light brown hair, dark brown… No. Reid looked more closely. Dark blue eyes. She had the tan skin of someone who spent time outside doing active things, and it complemented the color of her hair.

When he first started working for the BAU, Reid probably would have had trouble saying much of anything articulate around her. Now, he only felt a slight flutter in his chest before he returned his focus to Hotch.

Standing, Hotch addressed the team as JJ bustled in the door with a briefcase. She smiled at the team before taking her place at the front of the table, beginning to work the projector until Hotch finished.

"Before JJ presents the information on this case, I'd like to introduce Agent Bates. She'll be working both in the field and in the office with more complex profiling. Agent Bates, these are Agents Rossi, Garcia, Morgan, Prentiss, Reid, and Jareau." Hotch sat, his introduction brief and formal.

Agent Bates gave the room a small smile that Reid thought looked slightly forced, and then turned to JJ.

"Hang on, Hotch," Prentiss said. "Agent Bates, I'm not complaining about your presence; we could use all the help we can get, but I thought the BAU positions were all full?"

Hotch nodded. "They were, but we've been granted more funding recently. Enough to pay the salary of another agent."

"I see. Go on, JJ."

"Laurel, Mississippi." JJ indicated a spot on the map that appeared on the screen. "So far there have been four murders, all in the last month. The most recent was approximately two nights ago, based on the condition of the body- five days after the third victim. This is the shortest span between kills." The image on the screen changed to one of a mangled body, with various bruises and cuts varying in size, depth, and location.

Reid stole a glance across the table to the new agent. She was surveying the picture with a cold efficiency, appraising the wounds carefully. He didn't see any sign of revulsion or contempt, which surprised him.

_Then again, _he told himself, _no one sees those signs from any of us._ He returned to listening to JJ.

"As you can see, it appears that the victims undergo extensive torture before death. COD has varied from blood loss, to asphyxiation, to blunt force trauma. The only reasons these crimes are connected are the sheer violence, and the dump site."

Again, the screen changed. This time it was an image of a drain pipe opening into a ditch.

JJ continued. "The bodies have been found crammed into the drain pipe, except for the first. It's unclear whether it was originally placed in the drain and was washed out, or if the unsub deliberately left the body in the ditch." She typed rapidly on her computer, and four images of bodies, including the first they had seen, came into view. The photo of the dump site and a map were underneath.

Reid leaned forward, touching a finger his lip. "All of the bodies show almost identical bruising and cuts that obviously occurred prior to death, but you said the COD was different?"

JJ nodded.

Sitting back in his chair, Reid adjusted his tie and continued. "Since the unsub tortured his victims, he probably has a deep-seated rage to someone the victims remind him of. The victims are all men, so perhaps we're looking for someone with an abusive father. What was the first victim's cause of death?"

"Blood loss," JJ replied.

"And the most recent?"

"Blunt force trauma. It looks like-" JJ's face twisted slightly- "he was assaulted with a tire iron, or something similar."

Reid nodded, his suspicion confirmed. He noticed, before going on, that Agent Bates was watching him closely, focused on his assessment. "He's escalating. The blood loss could be due to multiple cuts sustained during the torture, or a single lethal cut. Either way, the unsub had to have used a knife and the death was, in the first instance, accidental, or quick, if the latter occurred.

"This most recent murder, however, most likely took several blows to get the job done. It was more violent, and more personal. His rage is increasing with the body count."

Rossi was nodding, pleased with Reid's explanation.

Agent Bates was studying the photo of the latest victim intently, her expression a bit perplexed. "I would need to see the body to be sure, but it seems that the same weapon that was used to kill this man was also used to torture him. The size and relative shape of the weapon needed to create a bruise like that appears to be similar to what would be required to do that kind of damage to a skull. The earlier victims, as well, have that same kind of bruising. It's possible that this latest victim angered the unsub, and this weapon just happened to be near by. It might not have been his intention to kill this man so soon."

Morgan leaned in. "Really? How can you tell, about the weapon?"

"I have a Ph.D. in Forensics. I also have a Masters in Physics and briefly studied medicine. With the combination of the three, I can usually determine the angle and force of the blow, and the type of the weapon based on the injuries. It's helpful in profiling the physique of the unsub."

Morgan nodded, impressed.

Reid was surprised when Agent Bates gestured towards him. "Not to discount Agent Reid's theory of escalating rage, but I think it would premature to dismiss the idea that this death was potentially accidental."

"I agree," Hotch said. "At this point, our profile simply leads us to believe he will strike again, and soon, regardless of his motive- continuing to work towards satisfying his anger, or continuing torture that was left unfinished. We leave in thirty minutes." He stood, nodded at the agents in the room, and headed out.

JJ closed her computer. "Garcia, you're fine to stay here, but Hotch wanted you briefed on this with the rest of the team."

"Of course," Garcia said. "Be safe, my friends."

"We'll try, baby girl," Morgan called as she exited the room.

The remaining agents stood, and Prentiss headed to Bates. "I didn't mean to imply you weren't wanted here. Another agent will be a great help." She extended her hand with a tight smile. "I'm Emily."

The smile and handshake were returned. "Vivienne," she replied in a quiet voice.

_Vivienne, _Reid repeated the name several times. A slightly unusual name, and decidedly French. She didn't look French.

Morgan was introducing himself, grinning his usual womanizing grin and letting his gaze linger. Vivienne (Reid usually thought of his fellow BAU members by their last name, except occasionally Prentiss, but the name 'Vivienne' seemed so… fitting.) was smiling, but still seemed reserved. Reid gathered up the papers and the few notes he'd made, and shuffled them into a neat stack.

"Hey, pretty boy," Morgan whistled. Reid glanced up. Morgan was looking at him expectantly, and Vivienne was watching him with an unreadable expression.

"Oh. Right. Spencer," he said, reaching out his hand. Vivienne smiled. Reid still got the feeling that the smile didn't reach her eyes. They were calculating; not cold, but just analytical- he wondered if his own looked that way.

Her hand met his, and her eyes snapped to meet his gaze. He sensed an instant, mutual recognition of intelligence, as if their different theories on the unsub were a representation of what they had in common. Both had pointed out something the others had failed to. As their eye contact continued, Reid eagerly anticipated working with her. The rest of the team was great, but it was hard to relate on an intellectual level.

Morgan shifted, and Reid realized he was still shaking Vivienne's hand. He didn't know by how much he'd exceeded the social norm, or really even what that was. Her eyes lingered on him for a second before they all moved towards the door. Prentiss was the first to get there, and Morgan followed. Reid caught the door just before it closed, holding it open and gesturing through it. Vivienne gave a look him that seemed to be the opposite of her previous expression- her eyes beamed, but the corners of her mouth only lifted slightly.

Shutting the door behind him, Reid watched as she moved through the office to an empty desk. It was against the wall, across from his. His hands in his pockets, he observed the way the team moved. From his vantage point on the stairs, he saw Morgan lead the way out the door. Prentiss followed, calling something over her shoulder. Vivienne stooped to pick up a leather satchel from underneath her desk, and swept her hair over her shoulder when she stood. All three moved with a natural ease and agility, if such things could be demonstrated walking through an office. No matter how many cases he worked, how many unsubs he personally talked down or took down, Reid always felt a bit awkward in comparison to the others.

Thankfully, this realization never came to him in the field, and only in social situations. He still felt awkward then anyway.

Rossi clapped his shoulder as he walked past, and Reid shook his head to clear it. After shutting down his computer, he grabbed his own overnight bag and followed the others.

Twenty minutes later, Reid hopped onto the BAU jet. There were several open seats; Reid chose the one across from Vivienne. He smiled as he sat down, and she gave him the same look from outside the door- the smile contained all in the eyes.

Though he couldn't decide why, Reid was interested in her. Yes, she was beautiful, but it wasn't just that. Plenty of women were beautiful. She'd talked about having a Ph.D. Reid supposed that could be part of it; he didn't meet many people with an education level similar to his. But that wasn't it, either.

He decided to let it go.

Prentiss and JJ were examining pictures of Henry, and Reid smiled at the thought of his godson. The little boy was lucky to have a mom like JJ.

Morgan had taken out an iPod and was staring out the window, watching them leave the Virginia ground behind. Rossi and Hotch were talking about the case.

Thinking more carefully about the discussion in the media room, Reid began to realize Vivienne may have been right. An unsub that tortured his victims, then killed them using varying methods, wasn't likely to use the same weapon to kill as to torture. Unless it was the only one readily available.

If that were the case, the unsub's rage would escalate, as Reid predicted. He would be angry that his torture had been ended before it was supposed to, and would be looking for another victim.

"Hey, Hotch," Reid called. Hotch glanced up and moved to a seat closer. "I think we need to be prepared to be looking for another body, possibly as soon as we land. If what Vivienne said was right, then the unsub will want to kill another victim as soon as he can. He needs to regain control of his victims. This one will probably be tortured for less time, but more severely. The COD will be brutal and personal, and we'll need to look for someone who knows how to keep a victim alive through significant torture. Possibly someone with a medical background."

Hotch nodded. "Rossi and I have started a preliminary profile. We'll include that in our analysis."

Reid leaned back in seat. He caught Vivienne watching him, a ghost of a smile on her lips. Her eyes showed something he couldn't quite identify. Maybe satisfaction.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Sometimes, Reid hated being right.

That hadn't been on the ground in Laurel more than fifteen minutes when they were called to the crime scene. Morgan, JJ, and Hotch were talking to the local police, and Rossi and Prentiss were examining the surrounding area. Vivienne was bent over the body, wearing white gloves.

The body was mangled and twisted in an unnatural way. Bruises, similar in nature to the others, but more severe, covered the body. Vivienne poked at it with and examined it from several angles, seemingly oblivious to the gore.

Reid usually found that he could detach himself from the victim and focus on the science, but the obscene bruising and multiple stab wounds had his brain lagging behind, leaving his imagination free to wander.

(_the needle, the visions, the scratching in the corners of his mind-_)

Reid snapped back to the scene.

He wandered towards the body and crouched across from Vivienne, who glanced up at him before returning to examining one of the stab wounds.

Reid frowned. "This doesn't make sense."

Vivienne glanced up at him again. "No." She returned to her work. Reid thought dryly that she needed to work on communication skills.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hotch moving towards them.

"Tell me something." Hotch said, crossing his arms. Vivienne straightened up, pulled off her gloves, and took the manila folder that she'd had tucked under her arm.

"The bruising is from the same weapon on all five victims, that much is certain. The fourth victim was killed by this same weapon. This latest victim-" she gestured to the body- "was likely tortured for no more than two days. The torture was, as Dr. Reid predicted, more severe than that of the first four, and the cause of death more violent."

She stooped again, and indicated to the stab wounds. "There are nine wounds in all. Only two could have been individually fatal; the others were not. It appears to be an act of hatred towards the victim, because these three wounds were almost certainly post-mortem."

Standing up again, she shook her head. "The vicious stabbing doesn't fit the rest of the murders. There's no sign of sexual assault, and this murder doesn't show the same kind of control that the first deaths did."

Rossi had appeared beside Hotch. "She's right. The first death was very deliberate, and the unsub was able to control himself and his desire to torture in order to control the time of death. Asphyxiation, as with the second and third victims, could also be controlled. It's relatively clean, and doesn't represent the same personal vendetta against the victims that these most recent two did."

"Could a partner be involved?" Hotch asked.

Vivienne shook her head, more to herself than Hotch. "It's possible, but it doesn't seem…" She struggled for a word. "Something about that just doesn't fit."

"Not much so far does," Rossi said, looking down at the body.

Heading back to the local police headquarters, Reid perched his chin on his fist as he stared out the window. He agreed that the idea of a partner didn't feel quite right, but the unsub was changing- evolving- very rapidly and in unpredictable ways. Maybe some form of psychosis…

He followed Hotch and Morgan through the doors of the local police department, and looked at the officers crowding the room. They listening attentively as JJ and Hotch introduced themselves and the other agents, as well as their role in the investigation.

"So far," Hotch was saying, "we've determined that this killer is very unpredictable. We're looking for a white male, probably between thirty and forty five years old. He probably had an abusive father, or uncle, or experienced some traumatic experience involving an older male he was close to."

Rossi took over. "He chooses victims that remind him of this person, and takes his anger out on them. He tortures them until he gets bored, or until they die during torture. The latter angers him more and more as his experience with killing grows. Based on his approximate age and the age of his victims- also between thirty and forty- the object of the unsub's rage is probably no longer living. Therefore, the only goal he has to work up to is satisfying his anger." Rossi nodded at Vivienne, who picked up.

"The unsub is probably someone with at least a rudimentary medical background. He knows with some certainty how to keep his victims alive under torture. He's at least reasonably intelligent, and captures his victims at night. This means he knows their routine; since he chooses the victims beforehand. While taking victims at night with few witnesses might lead some to believe he's not physically fit, we believe otherwise. He uses weapons, such as knives, but also objects one might not consider- tire irons, a blacksmith's file, a very small hammer- and applies them with considerable force." She nodded at JJ, who tapped the keys on her laptop to display a picture on the projector of one of the victims. Vivienne glanced at it, and then continued. "These injuries have a considerable amount of force behind them. A weak man would not be able to do that kind of damage."

When Reid glanced at the picture, he saw it was of the fourth victim with the crushed skull.

Vivienne shot him a glance, so he began to speak. "The latest victim was found with numerous stab wounds, and evidence of considerable torture. The stabbing shows less control than, say, a gunshot or strangulation. The unsub's rage is building up, and he's losing control of himself. Normally, stab wounds like this would represent, ah, a level of sexual frustration, but there appears to be no sexual component to these crimes.

"We need to be looking out for someone with a career that would give him access to many different potential weapons, and that probably involves a physical aspect. Consider, ah, carpenters, blacksmiths, butchers; anything that would require some physical strength and a wide range of potentially dangerous tools.

"His methods of torturing and killing the victims may be developing, but his goal will not. This has all the factors of a need-based murder, and the unsub won't stop killing until his need his met. Due to the suspicious that the fixation of his rage is dead, that won't happen."

Reid re-crossed his arms, surveying the faces of the officers. Most of them looked a bit sickened.

He hoped he hadn't sounded too enthusiastic in describing the crimes or the unsub; he knew sometimes tended towards that. He couldn't help it. As a genius with a distinct interest in the human psyche, some demented, twisted part of him was utterly fascinated with criminology.

The officers began to talk amongst themselves, and their supervisor directed them to different stations. Reid moved towards the rest of the team.

Morgan was a bit ahead of him, with his hand on Vivienne's shoulder.

"How you holding up?"

Vivienne gave him a cool smile. "Fine."

Grinning, Morgan didn't move his hand. "Good, you're doing great. Keep it up."

Vivienne's expression didn't change, but her eyes followed Morgan across the room.

Reid felt a pang of jealously that he knew shouldn't be there.

Vivienne turned around, saw him watching, and gave him the same cool smile she'd given Morgan. Reid glanced away, his cheeks heating. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he followed the team.

In what would be their workstation for the next few days, the team was already assembling themselves. JJ was writing and pinning crime scene photos to the clear board near the center of the room; Morgan was on the phone with Garcia, asking her to compile lists of men in the career fields Reid had named; Hotch was barking orders at Rossi and Prentiss.

Reid heard his name called, and moved over to the other agents.

"Reid, stay here with Bates and work victimology. JJ is holding a press conference in an hour; try to have something by then."

Reid nodded. The room slowly emptied, with Hotch and Prentiss going to talk to family members, and Rossi and Morgan going back to the dump site.

Vivienne scribbled notes on the board.

Reid moved to stand next to her, frowning at the pictures. She glanced at him briefly before going back to writing.

"Why would the cause of death be changing? With unsubs like this that are killing to satisfy anger, they usually have a set pattern and plan on how to kill their victims. Evolution of the cause of death doesn't seem to fit the pattern." He quickly looked at Vivienne; she had stopped writing and was also frowning at the board.

"The theory of two killers, one to torture and one to do the actual killing, may fit with the physical aspect of the crime, but not the psychological. This type of unsub isn't likely to share his rage and his kills with another person. It defeats the purpose." Vivienne said. "He could be changing tactics based on time, or the victims themselves."

Reid shook his head. "That's unlikely. This isn't about the victims; it's about who the victims remind him of. Once he's identified a victim as having similar characteristics to the person his anger is directed at, the victim, in his mind, becomes that person. The unsub has no further use for the victim's actual identity."

"So will victimology be beneficial at all?" Vivienne asked.

Nodding, Reid delved into the question. "The unsub chooses these victims not because of a connection to himself, but a similarity to the subject of his rage. The victims will likely have several things in common, such as a job, or habit, or hobby, or personality type. It's possible, but unlikely that the unsub has a personal relationship with any of the victims. He most likely chooses them somewhat at random within the requirements needed to fulfill his delusion. He might work with them, frequent the same locations, or have access to their personal information."

Vivienne stepped back. "So we have five men, all between thirty and forty years of age…" She took a small step back, and ended up even with Reid. She tapped her pen to her lip, and then continued on, more to herself. "First victim, Terry Harris. Found a week after he was reported missing. Second, Robert Goodman; found five days after being reported missing and two weeks after Harris. Vincent Blake was third, also missing five days, and found nine days after victim number two. Fourth was Stephen Williams, found five days later. He was missing three days. And of course, two days later, we find Roger Tilson, missing two days. All are assumed to have been captured during late evening…"

They stood in silence for several long minutes. Reid felt like he was missing something, an important piece… He couldn't put his finger on it and that irritated him.

Vivienne wagged the pen in her hand back and forth for a moment, and then her face lit up with understanding. "We determined that these men probably remind the unsub of an abusive father. The father had to have been thirty to forty during the time of abuse, putting the child at mostly likely five to ten years old. That would be the most traumatic time for abuse to occur; when the child doesn't understand and can't fight back. Now, our unsub is relatively the same age as his victims. What if the father died recently, triggering the murders?"

The missing piece clicked. Reid pointed excitedly. "That makes perfect sense. The unsub has developed a, a dissociative identity disorder. When the father died, he could have taken on a part of the father's persona, explaining the difference in techniques. The father does the torturing, and the son does the killing. That's why the torture shows control and meticulous attention to the balance between life and death, and the deaths themselves exhibit so much rage. When someone suffers from dissociative identity disorder-" Reid realized he was rambling, and shook his head. "I'll call Garcia and ask her to cross reference the men in the professions we asked for with recently deceased fathers."

Vivienne nodded, pulling out her cell phone. "I'll call Agent Hotchner."

"Vivienne?" Reid paused with the phone in hand, waiting to dial. She looked up, her eyebrows raised in question. "Good thinking."

She gave him a tight smile. He heard her talking in the background. "Agent Hotchner. Reid and I have determined that the unsub's father is likely recently deceased, triggering dissociative identity disorder in the unsub…"

Reid quickly dialed Garcia's number and asked for the cross reference.

_"Sending it pronto, my dear." _She replied with her usual bubbly attitude.

"Thanks, Garcia," Reid said, already beginning to hang up the phone. He straightened up from the desk and turned to Vivienne. Their eyes locked, and Reid felt the same… connection he'd felt back in Quantico. There was an understanding between them.

Twenty minutes later, they watched from the sidelines as JJ delivered the press release. She included everything Reid and Vivienne had figured out, and told citizens to be aware of anything suspicious.

Reid stood with his arms crossed, stealing a glance at Vivienne every few moments. He wanted to say something, but couldn't quite figure out what. Before he could, his phone rang.

"Reid." He said reflexively.

_"Boy Wonder." _Garcia's voice was cheery. _"There are twelve carpenters, blacksmiths, butchers, construction workers, mechanics, etc. who lost a father a month and a half to two months ago."_

Reid touched Vivienne's arm lightly, and motioned with his head to go back inside. She nodded and headed in, going over to the fax machine and pulling out the stack of papers Garcia had sent.

Listening to Garcia continue, Reid peered over Vivienne's shoulder. _"Two of those men can be eliminated by age; one is in his sixties and the other in his twenties."_

"Great, Garcia, tell me if any of the fathers have records, particularly for domestic violence."

_"Umm… Five have records, three for domestic violence. Sheesh." _Garcia added, sounding disturbed.

"Okay. Umm…" Reid turned back to the board. He set the phone on the desk and turned the speaker on. "You're on speaker, Garcia."

"What are the names of the three sons?" Vivienne asked. Reid was surprised; he hadn't realized she could hear Garcia over the phone.

_"One moment, Madame..." _Garcia typed rapidly. _"Jim Paige, Lou Michaels, and Gary Steele." _

Vivienne flipped through the pages until she found those three. "Anything stick out about them?"

_"Nope, not so far…Uh oh."_

"What?" Reid and Vivienne asked at the same time. Reid glanced over; she looked amused.

_"Jim Paige and Lou Michaels are both married and seem pretty normal. Gary Steele has a juvenile record for assault, and no spouse or living family members in the area."_

Vivienne nodded. "Address?"

_"Sending it now. There's something else…" _Garcia paused. _"He was in the hospital several times as a child, but that's not it. He had a younger sister. She died when she was eight and he was ten- it looks like…"_

"What is it, Garcia?" Reid asked.

_"She was beaten to death. The father was suspected but never convicted."_

"Okay. Thanks." Reid disconnected the call. Turning to Vivienne, he gestured to the board. "He's not just avenging his own abuse; he's trying to avenge his sister's death. The rage isn't just for him," Reid added to himself. He stared at the photos of the bodies, his jaw slack. "The father's death was the trigger, but the sister is the reason."

Vivienne nodded, and snatched the phone off the desk when it beeped. She showed Reid the address on the screen. "Call Hotch. We've got him."

( )

**A/N: **_Thanks for all the favorites and alerts already! I planned to make it take a little longer for them to identify the unsub, but I had an idea and just went with it. Let me know what you so far!_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Reid trailed behind Morgan, Hotch and Prentiss, his gun drawn. They'd arrived at Gary Steele's house moments before. It was a small, one-story house seated on about ten acres, situated far back from the main road. There were no neighbors nearby, and the large barn behind the house would hide almost anything.

It was the perfect place for the unsub to torture his victims.

Reid and Vivienne followed the rest of the team, bringing up the rear. They closed in on the house, and Hotch split the team up. Vivienne and Morgan headed to the barn; Hotch headed to the front door with Prentiss covering him; Reid headed around back.

He heard the door come crashing in after Hotch's knocks went unanswered. Despite the fact that he'd been doing for years now, his hands shook ever so slightly as he pointed his gun at the back door. He breathed a sigh of relief when Hotch opened it for him, announcing that it was clear; Reid really didn't want to shoot anyone.

They moved through the house with caution nonetheless. The house was bare, with little furniture and no personal touches. No photos, no newspapers, not even a computer or calendar. The only food in the cabinets were a few cases of soda and bags of chips.

"So this clearly isn't where he operates," Prentiss said dryly. Reid had holstered his gun and wandered through the house. Down the hallway, all the doors were open, save one. Reid carefully pushed it open.

The other side of the door was like a different world. It was a young girl's room, with pink and purple covers on the bed and dolls and toys on the dressers. Frowning, Reid examined it further.

There was a thick layer of dust on almost everything in the room. Carefully, Reid made his way to the dresser. There, the dust was cleared off one item- an old, faded Polaroid photograph. In it, a little boy was standing close to an even littler girl. They both grinned at the camera.

Suddenly, Reid understood. This was the sister's room.

On the way to the house, Garcia had given them more information. The sister's name was Caroline Steele, and was taken to the hospital several times, along with her older brother, Gary. Their father, a blacksmith, usually blamed it on the family's horses- the kids had been playing, and startled the horses into kicking. Several times, a report had been filed against the father for abusing his children, but nothing ever came of it.

Reid was beginning to put the pieces together. Gary and Caroline were abused as children; Gary possibly into adolescence. Caroline was killed. Gary's anger at his father builds, and finally snaps years later when the father dies. Gary, already prone to violence, develops a personality disorder-

"Reid." It was Hotch, interrupting his thoughts. "We're heading out. The house is clean."

Nodding, Reid followed, leaving the picture behind. He walked onto the lawn, shielding his eyes from the sun. Vivienne and Morgan returned from the barn, shaking their heads.

"Nothing out of the ordinary." Morgan said. "There are a few blacksmith tools that could match the weapon we're looking for, but they looked unused."

Vivienne nodded conformation.

"Alright. Head back to the station," Hotch called.

They moved back towards the two SUVs in the driveway. Reid caught Vivienne's eye; she was frowning and looked concerned. She moved towards him, keeping her voice low.

"Something doesn't feel right," she said.

"Mmh," Reid nodded. He wondered why she was telling him and not Hotch. Vivienne gave him another look, one he couldn't read as easily, and then hopped into the other SUV with Morgan.

_Great job, Spencer._ Reid thought to himself. He didn't disagree with her, but he couldn't figure out the source of the concern.

Back at the station, Hotch and JJ quickly re-briefed the officers. Reid sat off to one side, thinking. Morgan, Vivienne, and Prentiss were across the room from him, all standing with their arms crossed, wearing serious expressions. When the briefing was over, they all gathered in the center of the emptying room.

"Do we have any connection between the victims?" Hotch asked.

Vivienne shook her head.

"Only age," Reid said. "Garcia's looking into it."

"Good." Hotch said. "We only have a few more hours before we need to turn in for the night."

The team nodded, and regrouped. Reid headed back to the board with the victims' names on it. Morgan and Vivienne followed behind.

"Did anything come of talking to the families?" Vivienne asked Prentiss as they passed.

Prentiss sighed. "Not really. The victims didn't appear to know each other, but the wives and family members admitted they could have been coworkers or acquaintances."

Reid zoned out, thinking first of the victims, being taken from their families and then tortured for no reason. He had a good enough idea of what that was like.

"Hey, kid." Morgan's voice broke through his thoughts. "You okay? You're looking at that board like it might get up and walk away."

"Huh? Yeah, um, sorry, just got, uh, distracted." Reid sputtered out a response. Vivienne's cool blue eyes appraised him for a moment before going back to Morgan.

Morgan's phone rang; he answered it and put it on speaker.

"Got something for me, sweetheart?" He asked.

_"Always, my love." _Garcia replied. _"Okay, listen up- all of the victims had different jobs. We've got a, uh, dentist, web designer, journalist, business owner, and an overseer for construction work. But. Get this. They all frequent the same bar, and had credit card charges there the nights they were reported missing."_

"There's our connection," Vivienne said quietly. Morgan nodded.

"Anything else?" He asked Garcia.

_"Not for the moment. I'll keep digging."_

"Thanks, baby girl."

"_Anything for you."_

Morgan chuckled as Garcia hung up. Vivienne raised her eyebrows at Reid, who shrugged. Morgan and Garcia's relationship was difficult to define to someone to who was familiar with them; impossible to someone who wasn't.

Morgan's phone beeped a moment later with the name and address of the bar. He told Hotch, who gave Vivienne and Reid instructions to follow along.

On the way to the bar, Reid sat in the backseat, watching the sun set. The colors were stunning. He didn't notice Vivienne has been staring at it as well until Morgan said something.

"Hey, sweetheart," Morgan said, "Got your head in the game?"

Vivienne turned to him, the cool smile on her face. "Of course," she replied smoothly.

"You, Reid?" Morgan asked, glancing in the rearview to see Reid's expression.

"Uh huh," Reid said, his mind elsewhere.

Morgan watched him for a moment longer, and then turned his eyes back to the road. "It'll be getting crowded in there. Keep your eyes open."

As they found a parking space and got out, Reid saw Vivienne's fingers brush the butt of her gun, a flicker of anxiety crossing her features.

Then she was back to calm, cool, collected, not quite smiling.

They walked into the bar, which was already full of men and women just getting off work. A few people laughed obnoxiously, and some were dancing or playing pool. Reid stayed close behind Vivienne, subconsciously keeping her between himself and Morgan.

They reached the counter, and Morgan flashed his badge. Vivienne showed the young bartender the pictures of the victims. The blonde woman nodded, saying she recognized all of them by face if not by name.

"Did any of them do anything unusual the last night you saw them? Did they have a confrontation with anyone, or leave with someone you didn't know?" Morgan asked.

The bartender shook her head. "I don't work every night," she explained. "So I'm not really sure when their last time here was. But the times I saw them, they all seemed pretty normal. Some of them would get smashed a few times, get kinda rowdy. But nothing violent."

Morgan nodded. He began to describe the unsub to her.

Reid turned towards the crowd and scanned the faces he saw. None made an impression on him; all looked to be having a good time. No one looked like a killer.

_Not many do,_ he thought to himself.

A tall man wearing a polo and jeans made his way to the bar near them. He nodded with his chin at Vivienne, who glanced over but didn't respond. Reid didn't like the look of the man.

Polo Guy moved closer. "Hey," he said to Vivienne.

"Hi." She responded curtly, making a point to look in another direction.

"Can I get you drink?" he asked, trying to sound smooth. Vivienne gave him a hard look.

"No."

"Come, honey, just one won't hurt-"

Vivienne whipped towards him. "Don't 'honey' me. I don't want a drink."

Reid saw what the man was about to do before he did it. He moved his hand towards Vivienne's waist. She grabbed his wrist and twisted it before he got there. With her free hand, she grabbed her badge.

"FBI. Now, get lost."

Polo Guy still wasn't convinced. "Well, I'm sorry, Miss FBI. You know, a drink would loosen up that attitude-"

Just as Reid felt he should step in and say something, Morgan whirled on Polo Guy. "Hey!" Morgan shouted over the music. "She said get lost. Do it."

Morgan glared threateningly. The guy took the hint, and slunk off. Reid relaxed back against the bar.

"Thanks." Vivienne said, her eyes glaring into the man's back.

"No problem." Morgan said. He turned back to the bartender. "So anybody that sound like that come in here?"

She shook her head, chuckling. "Sweetie, you just described half these customers. Daddy was mean, so they drown their sorrows in a bottle of Jack."

Reid jumped in. "This man would always be alone, and be particularly prone to violence. He might seem strange, a bit out of place compared to the others. He'll show signs of a personality disorder called-"

The bartender held up a hand. "I can't think of someone off hand, but I'll keep an eye out." She promised.

"Thanks." Morgan flipped her a card.

The three walked back out to the SUV. Vivienne glanced at Morgan nervously several times, and Reid felt he was missing something.

Finally, Vivienne said something. "Can I drive?"

Morgan frowned at her, but handed her the keys. "Sure. What's so exciting about it?"

Vivienne shrugged and answered. "Relaxing," she murmured.

Reid thought there were few things less relaxing than driving.

He continued to stare out the window on the way back to the police department; Vivienne's driving was no better or worse than anyone else from the BAU. They arrived back perhaps a little faster than on the way out, but beyond that, it may as well have Morgan driving.

Hotch and Rossi were sitting at the center desk, staring at the victims' photos.

Hotch glanced up when they walked in. "Reid, tomorrow I want you to assemble a geographical profile. Morgan, you'll be going out with Prentiss and Rossi to look over the dump site again and talk to remaining family members. Vivienne, you can stay here and work with Garcia to find a connection between the victims and predict the unsub's next move."

"Yes, sir." Vivienne replied. Reid and Morgan nodded.

Rossi stood as Hotch gestured to the door. "Head back to the hotel and get some sleep. We start early tomorrow."

Moving towards the door, Reid watched Vivienne's expression flood with relief before Rossi held the door for her, and she gave him her composed smile.

Later that evening, Reid settled into his hotel room. He showered and changed into sweatpants and a shirt, both things he rarely wore. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he flipped on the TV. He flipped channels for a few minutes, not finding anything particularly interesting or tolerable.

It wasn't late, and Reid wasn't tired, but he flipped out the light and crawled into bed anyway. He stared at the ceiling, dark blue in the dim light. Trying to fall asleep faster, he closed his eyes.

He was mentally reciting various stories and poems to himself when he began to drift off. His mind clouded over, with images of the crowded bar and different people he didn't know. Reid began to fall asleep.

_"The Devil knows how to read, too."_

_ [Click.]_

Reid flew into a sitting position, his eyes wide. His heart was pounding, and he gasped for breath.

Why couldn't he ever put Tobias Hankel from his mind?

_The eidetic memory could have something to do with it, _he told himself bitterly. But he did wonder why he was having trouble forgetting recently. After he'd given up Dilaudid, he'd seemed to return to his normal self. He hadn't been haunted by nightmares every night, he hadn't had flashbacks during the day that left him shaking, and he hadn't felt the mentally broken feeling he felt now. He'd begun to heal.

Unfortunately, he knew he'd never heal enough to completely forget.

_I won't tell you another time, boy, shoot him!_

Reid decided to go for a walk to clear his head.

He slipped his shoes back on and grabbed his key card before leaving. As soon as he saw the familiar pattern of the hotel, the calming, normal presence of his surroundings, he began to feel better.

Down the hall, he caught sight of a vending machine around a corner. He didn't have any coins with him, but there was also a water dispenser with paper cups.

Reid moved towards the water dispenser, his mind clearing and putting Tobias Hankel and his multiple personalities to rest.

However, he nearly screamed when the voice behind him, coming from the person he hadn't noticed, spoke.

"Can't sleep either?"

After Reid had squeaked and whirled around, expecting to face some terrible foe, he almost sighed aloud with relief. Vivienne was sitting against the wall across from the vending machine, a cup of water in her hand.

She, too, was wearing sweatpants, and Portland State shirt. Reid glanced at her feet, and was struck by the fact that she had on slippers. The seemingly no-nonsense, almost cold FBI agent was wearing fuzzy, pink slippers.

She caught him staring and shrugged. "They're comforting," she said.

"No, I didn't… I, uh… Yeah. Never mind." Reid stood watching her dumbly.

"You never answered my question." Vivienne managed to sound gentle.

Wishing he could better articulate his thoughts around beautiful women, Reid had to work to remember her question. "Oh, uh, yeah… Just wanted to get a drink before I go to sleep. Water, I mean."

Vivienne just gazed at him for a moment. The way her eyes met his felt like she saw far more than he wanted her to.

"So the nightmares don't go away." It wasn't a question.

_How did she know?_ Reid wondered frantically. But then he glanced at her again, and saw her for what she was, professionalism stripped aside- a scared young woman trying to prove herself to a distant boss by being stoic and impenetrable.

He couldn't lie. "Um, no, not really. It gets easier to handle, but…" He shrugged, shuffling his feet. "It's good to know we save people," he muttered unconvincingly.

Vivienne nodded. She looked to the side, staring at nothing. "I can handle looking at dead bodies. Those don't seem like people, like real human beings, anymore. Then it's just science. I don't know if I could handle finding someone alive… Knowing that they had to go through something so terrible at the hands of another person, and that they'll never be able to leave it behind."

Chills raced up Reid's spine.

"Well, um, they get their lives back. Isn't it better to be alive?"

Blue eyes pierced him as Vivienne turned back towards him. "You tell me."

Reid didn't want to continue the conversation. "Uh, Vivienne, you should probably, ah… Probably get some sleep. We start early tomorrow." He said, echoing Hotch.

She stood slowly. "You're probably right." She met his eyes again, smiling ever so slightly. "I hope you sleep well, Dr. Reid."

Reid stood rooted to the spot, watching her retreating form. "Yeah, you… You, too, Vivienne." He called out, too late. She glanced over her shoulder, her face a mask once again.

( )

**A/N:** _Something I meant to mention by now: I choose these towns more or less at random. I try not to pick big cities that everyone will know unless the story calls for it. So, if I end up using your hometown/current location as fodder for my literary fire, I apologize. I've been known to manipulate the geography and 'feel' of a town to suit the needs of the story. Anyway, just a heads up. Reviews would be awesome!_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Reid woke up early the next morning, rising before his alarm. He quickly got ready, and then headed down to the lobby.

Vivienne and Prentiss were already there, drinking coffee. Reid glanced around and didn't see any of the others.

"They headed out already," Prentiss said. "We were still getting coffee and they knew you weren't up."

"Oh," was all Reid managed to say. Usually he was one of the earliest risers on the team.

Except when he'd been using. Then he had slept far more than necessary.

Before he could get into worrying what the team might make of his sleeping in, he grabbed a cup of coffee and stood by the door.

"In a hurry?" Prentiss teased. Reid just gave her a half-hearted smile and shook his head.

Prentiss and Vivienne exchanged a glance. Reid didn't know what it meant, but it irritated him.

"I just- just don't want Hotch to be upset."

The two women nodded, and Vivienne pulled the keys from her pocket. Reid really noticed her then; her hair was still the same light, wavy brown. It reminded him vaguely of Elle's.

He corrected himself. With his memory, he could still picture Elle perfectly, and Vivienne's face was nothing like hers had been. Vivienne was softer and smoother and somehow more striking.

And, of course, her eyes were blue.

A fact he was reminded of when he snapped back to reality to find Vivienne looking at him expectantly.

Reid realized he was standing in front of the door, made some sound that could be described as a mix of surprise and realization, and shuffled out of the way.

Vivienne smiled briefly as she breezed past him; he got caught in the wake and could only watch helplessly as she walked by.

Prentiss elbowed him gently as she followed Vivienne. "Careful, Reid," she whispered. He stared helplessly at her, too, hoping she could explain what she meant. She just cocked an eyebrow and headed through the door.

Walking quickly to catch up, Reid tucked the case file under his arm and took a sip of his coffee.

"Shotgun," Prentiss called.

Forgetting to be rational, Reid spun around. "What?" He said in a panicky voice.

"Front seat," Prentiss said, her eyes soft. Vivienne, who had already slid in behind the wheel, watched with a blank expression.

Reid was only slightly relieved that there was no pity in her eyes.

"Right, of course," Reid said, not paying attention anymore. "Just on edge with the case," he added.

"Uh huh," Prentiss said as she hopped in. Reid took a seat in the back and deliberately avoided eye contact. Finally, he was unable to keep silent, and began rambling.

"Did you know the US has 76% of the world's serial killers? The fact that our culture has the highest resource consumption and is generally assumed to place the highest value on material things is sometimes speculated to correlate with domestic murder rates. It's often regarded as being derived from the perceived satisfaction with one's lifestyle and-"

The confused, perplexed look that Prentiss gave him halted his monologue. He didn't know what made him come up with that particular bit of information, but sometimes he just couldn't help himself.

Vivienne, however, met his eyes in the rearview mirror. "So this is where those degrees come in, huh?"

"Yes, plus the eidetic memory- How did you know about the degrees?"

"Garcia told me. She first referenced you as… What was it? Oh, 'Boy Wonder'. I didn't get it, then she explained about the Ph.D.s." She paused to make a turn. "What do you think about the serial killers? The connection to affluence, I mean."

Reid sputtered for a response. "Well, I, uh, I was just referencing the findings of several reputable analysts; I haven't personally studied the data…"

"Yes, but what do you think?" Vivienne pressed.

It occurred to Reid that he couldn't remember the last time someone had asked him for his opinion on the facts he frequently stated. In fact, no one usually said anything about these, except to question why or how he knew such things.

"I… I, um, I think they're right," Reid began weakly. "I think that-" his voice gained more confidence- "when the perception of happiness and satisfaction is derived from the possession of things, material or otherwise, as opposed to being derived from the mental and, ah, even spiritual state of well-being, it creates a dissatisfaction with anything less than the maximum. I think most serial killers kill because of something they were denied, in one way or another, emotionally, physically, or psychologically." He waited a moment, and then peeked up. Vivienne met his eyes again. She looked… He didn't know what she looked.

"That's very interesting," she said. Many people had said that to him before, but Vivienne said it with a conviction and sincerity he wasn't used to hearing. She looked like she wanted to ask more, but they were pulling in front of the police station.

Vivienne glanced at Reid one more time in the mirror, and opened her mouth briefly as if to say something, then closed it. Reid did the same, not wanting to end the conversation so abruptly.

But the case file was suddenly heavy under his arm, reminding him he had a job to do.

No matter how much he might wish otherwise, that job was not discussing morals with Vivienne Bates.

_Why do you want to talk to her so much anyway?_ Reid asked himself. _It's not like she'd be interested._

He argued with himself for several minutes as he walked into the station, telling himself (seemingly in vain) that his interest was purely intellectual and academic.

Then he saw Vivienne walk past Morgan up ahead.

"Morning, V," he flashed her a grin. She smiled back, and Reid knew he'd just lost his argument.

However, he consoled himself with the assumption that his attraction to her would soon fade. He'd grow accustomed to working with her, being near her, and the feeling would dissolve away.

"See you later, kid," Morgan called as he headed out the door with Rossi and Prentiss.

Reid waved, then turned back. Vivienne was watching Morgan's retreating form, a very obvious expression in her eyes.

_See?_ Reid scolded himself.

He stood with a slight sigh and headed to the board. Someone- he guessed Hotch- had added another board, so that the maps could be attached to it. A large map of the town, with the victims' homes starred, was pinned there. A marker rested on the shelf at the bottom.

"Hi, Garcia, it's Bates," Vivienne's voice stopped Reid briefly, and then he stopped listening as best he could. He could keep it from distracting him, but tuning it out all together was impossible.

Something Garcia said must have made Vivienne smile. She didn't laugh, but Reid could hear it in her voice.

He made a better effort not to listen, losing himself in his own task. For several moments, he perched his chin on one hand, cupping his elbow with the other. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the map.

There was no pattern to it. To the untrained eye, the jumbled cluster of stars may have looked organized, but to Reid, it was everything but. The motive clearly had nothing to do with location; it was the victim that mattered.

The killer himself was organized, but the homes of his victims were in no particular pattern. He didn't pick them based on their homes, anyway.

"Hey, Vivienne," Reid called, his eyes not leaving the board. "Where was the address of the bar?"

"386 Maple," She replied, not looking up from the papers at her desk.

"Thanks," Reid mumbled, finding the place on the map and dotting it. It was relatively close to the center of the cluster formed by the victims' homes.

Reid grabbed the marker and a compass from the desk near him and measured out the equivalent of a circle with a five mile radius. All the stars fit inside the circle.

He frowned, thinking of another variable to include.

Becoming very still, he stared at the board.

He didn't know how long it had been until Vivienne called his name. She was setting down a cell phone and looking at him with some urgency.

"We have another connection between the victims," she said when he looked her way. He raised his eyebrows. "At one point or another, the victims all owned horses that the unsub has worked with. All of them hired him as a farrier during some time in the last ten years."

Reid mulled over this new information. "See if Garcia can get a list of all his current customers. Then cross reference that list with males that fit the victimology, and those that go to the same bar with any frequency."

"Got it," Vivienne said, sliding back in her chair and picking up the phone again. Distantly, Reid heard her repeating what he'd said to Garcia. He was still focused on the map.

If Steele wasn't at his house, and didn't seem to have been there for quite some time, where would he go?

Reid made a mental note to check if the Steele family had any other property in the area.

Out of curiosity, Reid took a different colored marker and starred the location of the Steele farm.

It fell just outside the circle.

Logically, the unsub would be working from a point within the circle. Regardless of the fact that location was irrelevant, convenience still held bearing. The unsub wouldn't have easy access to observing and abducting victims that were far away.

"Reid." Vivienne called his name again.

"Hmm?" His brow furrowed at the map.

"Garcia found six men that fit the description. She cautioned that there may be more, as her lists were not exhaustive."

"Uh huh. Send that to Hotch as a prospective suspect list. Maybe talk to them; see if they know anything about Steele." He called, not looking away from the board.

The stars inside the circle seemed to taunt him.

"Vivienne?"

"What?" She looked a little impatient.

"Find out if the Steele family has owned any property within this radius." He gestured to the board. "Uh, it might have been sold at some point, but that family would have owned it within the last, um, probably fifty years. It might have been the father's property."

Vivienne gave him a smile that he recognized as thinly veiled irritation. "Of course," she said, her mouth tight.

Reid ignored it, oblivious to the tension in the room.

After several more hours and little productive work, Reid was still standing in front of the board- his jaw slack, his eyes focused. Garcia seemed to be having little luck digging through old property records.

Hotch burst through the door. "Reid, Bates," he barked. They both turned. "We have another missing man." He announced. He nodded at Vivienne. "It's one of the men on the list."

Prentiss followed. "The family says he didn't come home last night. It's possible he's still alive."

"Where would he be?" Hotch demanded, staring over Reid's shoulder.

"Well, uh, this is the area where the abductions, killings, and dumping took place." Reid explained. "The unsub's base in likely near the center of these areas-"

"Garcia?" Vivienne's voice carried, and she looked meaningfully at the rest of the team. She nodded, and moved towards them, snatching the marker from Reid's hand. Her fingers brushed against his, and he caught her eye for a split second. An incredibly brief interaction, but Reid still felt himself blush.

Vivienne was nodding and saying something to Garcia. "Got it. Thanks."

She made a very definite dot in the center of the circle.

"There." She said, snapping the phone shut. "An old farm the father owned years ago. He couldn't make the payments, so it was taken by the bank. It was never completely sold, only partially developed. It's still a fairly rural area with about a dozen acres."

"That's where he's hiding," Hotch affirmed. "Let's go. We don't have time to lose."

"Yes, sir." Vivienne said quietly, a determined look on her face. She grabbed her keys and strode out the door.

Moments later, Reid held the door handle in a death grip sitting in the backseat. Prentiss and Vivienne were up front; Vivienne was driving. She had taken Hotch seriously when he said 'no time to lose' and was flying through stop signs and sliding around corners. Prentiss barked out the directions to the property.

Up ahead, the other SUV and a police car swung into an older driveway, past the edge of a nice suburb. The driveway was framed by rickety fences and low, dense trees.

They pulled in and all slid out of the car. There was no house, at least not that they could see. There was, however, a barn about a quarter mile from the end of the driveway.

Drawing their guns, they headed towards the barn. At a signal from Hotch, Morgan and Prentiss jogged ahead, while Reid and Rossi flanked several local officers.

Vivienne stayed somewhat in the center. Reid recognized that Hotch was intentionally surrounding her; trying to protect her on her first case. He wondered if she needed it. She looked quite comfortable slinking around the barn holding a gun.

Hotch held up a hand at the door of the barn. There were indeterminate noises coming from inside. Prentiss stood ready to open the door, and Morgan was poised at the entrance. Hotch held up three fingers, two, one.

Prentiss yanked the large roller door open, and Morgan surged in.

"FBI!" Reid heard him shout. Hotch trailed close behind, then a local officer, then Vivienne. Reid brought up the rear. The other officers stayed outside, or went around back.

Reid glanced around the barn and resisted the urge to run back out.

An array of bloody tools lay around the floor and on the walls. There were chains hanging from the rafters.

In the middle of the barn stood a man with graying hair, unremarkable features. He was slightly overweight, muscular, and of medium height. In one hand, he held a long file with a sharp end.

A middle aged man was tied to a post close to him. He was bloodied and whimpering.

"Gary Steele," Hotch said, his gun pointed straight ahead.

"No," the blacksmith said in a small voice. "Not right now."

"What's the father's name?" Hotch whispered to Rossi, not wavering his aim.

"Bill," Rossi answered.

"Bill?" Hotch tried. "Are you Bill Steele?"

The blacksmith hissed and raised the file towards the man in the chair. "Don't say his name!"

Hotch risked a worried sideways glance. Vivienne looked as if she was calculating rapidly, working to think faster. Understanding dawned on her face.

"The personality disorder. The split didn't occur a few months ago with the father's death; that was the trigger but not the cause. The split happened years ago when the sister died. The sister is the alternate." She said quietly.

Carefully, Vivienne stepped forward. Hotch shot her a warning glance, but didn't stop her.

"Caroline?"

"Yes?" The blacksmith smiled. Reid thought it was horribly wicked smile.

"Caroline, why are you killing these men?"

Confusion muddled Steele's features. "I haven't killed anybody. I'm just playing with them. They're just like Daddy."

"What do you mean?" Vivienne asked carefully.

Steele's face crumbled. "They're mean to the horses. Gary always says that if they're mean to the horses, they're mean to their kids, too. Just like Daddy."

Vivienne took a deep breath, and lowered her gun. "Caroline, these men aren't your Daddy. Put the weapon down, and we can talk about it more. You don't want to hurt anyone."

Steele didn't move.

"Caroline," Vivienne said, "if you didn't kill anyone, who did?"

Steele's face twisted, and his voice became deeper. "I did," he said. "I have to clean up Caroline's mess. It's my job, you know."

"Gary, put the weapon down." Vivienne said. Reid noticed that she didn't falter with the switch.

"I worked so hard to keep Caroline from getting caught. I cleaned it all up when she had her little tantrums at Daddy. But I was angry, too! He hurt me, too! But I always cleaned up the messes." He took a menacing step forward. "This is just another mess."

Without flinching, Vivienne drew her gun again and fired at Steele's knee. He buckled, going down quickly. She didn't hesitate to rush forward, grabbing the file and tossing it away before Hotch got close.

Hotch quickly cuffed Steele, who was howling. Vivienne holstered her gun, and met Reid's eyes. She stepped back from the scene, watching the officers untie the crying victim.

As they led him past, he looked in her eyes, his own bloodshot. "I don't hurt my children, I promise," he sobbed.

Vivienne, from beside Reid, nodded. "I know," she said, a touch of sympathy in her tone.

"Nice shot," Reid said, nodding at the Steele.

"Thanks." Vivienne said flatly. He knew there was no joy in shooting people.

"Look, um, you… You did the right thing. This was your first case," Reid offered, giving her half a smile.

She looked up at him. "I hope I can handle this," she whispered confidentially.

Reid watched her walk away. "You can," he said to himself.

Somebody had to believe that.

( )

**A/N: **_If the part about them catching the unsub is rushed or confusing, I'm sorry. It was a bit outside the plan. Please review! Any comments or advice is appreciated._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Reid was one of the first ones on the jet. He sat very still on the couch, hoping to be able to lean back and relax; reflect.

Steele had been taken into custody after his wound was treated; it wasn't serious. The team had filled out some necessary paperwork, and they were ready to leave about three hours later.

Vivienne had handled the situation in the barn quite impressively. She hadn't lost her cool, or tried to be hero. Those were two things new agents most often did.

Instead, she had been collected, calm, and generally unperturbed by any turn of events. Reid was finding her increasingly difficult to figure out.

She didn't seem bothered by seeing the victim walk out, injured but alive. Reid supposed maybe in the moment, her fears had been laid to rest. Maybe it would haunt her later.

But what puzzled him was her unendingly cool attitude towards everything that had so far been thrown at her. Perhaps the academy was just prepping agents better nowadays.

_And why is the only time she lets that barrier down when I'm alone with her-_

Reid didn't let himself dwell on that question. It would do nothing productive.

The rest of the team began filing in, chatting about the case or their relief that they were headed home. Finally, Vivienne brought up the rear. She glanced around the plane before taking a seat next to Reid on the couch.

His heart jumped for a moment, until he realized the only other open seat was next to Hotch.

Settling down into the seat as he felt the engines rev up, Reid pulled a book from his messenger bag. It was an older copy of _War and Peace._ It wasn't his favorite, but every now and then, he felt the urge to read it for nothing other than literary balance.

Soon, he felt his eyes drifting shut. He shut the book, unconcerned with marking his page. He knew where it was.

In minutes, he was wavering between being asleep and awake. It was a sensation he found fascinating- where one was aware of their surroundings and able to process sounds and sights, but incorporated those into the dreamlike state in which they found themselves. For example, Reid was aware that Vivienne was next to him, her blue shirt perfectly matching her eyes.

But in his subconscious, he was also seeing George Foyett with a gun to her head.

He felt himself twitch, and tried to wake up. He heard, in his dream, Vivienne call his name; he presumed for help.

Then he managed to wake up, and realized she had been calling his name.

"Reid," she said, her hand on his shoulder. "You were dreaming."

"I guess you could tell it wasn't a good one," he made an attempt to joke. Instead of giving him the pitying look his humor usually received, Vivienne gave him a small smile. It was then that he noticed her hand had yet to leave his arm.

She seemed to notice it at the same time he did, and moved back smoothly, but quickly enough to show her discomfort.

"Yes, I could tell," she said. She looked as if she was going to say something else, and then thought better of it.

Reid wanted to say something, anything, to her to keep her from turning away; to keep the conversation going. He could think of nothing but statistics.

Then he remembered a conversation with Morgan from long ago.

Stealing a glance at Vivienne, he decided to go for it.

"Hey, um, Vivienne, would you like to see a magic trick?"

Vivienne turned back towards him and gave him a bemused glance. Reid mentally kicked himself until she smiled.

"Sure."

He gave her a weak smile, and then grabbed a deck of cards from his bag. He quickly shuffled them, forgoing the average bridge and getting fancy. Vivienne's eyes widened slightly, and his confidence went up.

"I grew up in Vegas," he said by way of explanation. She looked surprised, but nodded.

Finally, Reid stopped shuffling and held the cards out, face down, in a fan. "Pick a card," he said.

Vivienne debated for a moment, and then picked a card close to the end.

Reid had seen people try to avoid being tricked by avoiding the middle cards. It didn't matter. The trick wasn't in the card itself.

"Remember that card," Reid said, now fully engaged in the trick. Vivienne nodded. He shuffled the deck. "Now put it back."

She did, placing carefully in a very different place from where she'd pulled it. Reid avoided looking at the deck.

He began shuffling again, changing up the ways in which he shuffled the cards. He sat for several minutes, just shuffling the cards, not looking at Vivienne. Finally, she frowned.

"What's the trick?"

Reid played along. "I know which card you had."

Vivienne half-smiled. "Which one was it?"

"Oh, it was the six of spades. You might want to check your purse."

Vivienne's eyebrows shot up as she reached into her purse beneath the seat. Sure enough, she pulled out the six of spades.

"How did you do that?" She asked incredulously.

Reid grinned, confidence complete. "A magician never reveals his secrets," he responded.

Vivienne smiled and shook her head, disbelief still plastered on her face. "No, you have to explain that." She struggled for words. "That's- that was- No. That's not possible."

"It only looks impossible." Reid said, smiling.

Vivienne stared at him. "Do it again."

"What?" Reid asked. He was surprised she was interested.

"Do it again."

Reid shrugged, and fanned out the cards. He nodded at them. Vivienne pulled one from the middle this time.

She laughed in disbelief when he performed the trick again, pulling the card from her sleeve. Feeling confident, he let his fingers graze across her wrist.

Meeting his eyes, Vivienne didn't move. Her pupils changed ever so slightly, and she watched him with a deep expression, her lips slightly parted. Reid didn't even want to imagine what his expression was.

Footsteps from across the plane startled him, and he pulled his back quickly.

Hotch sat down across from them, frowning ever so slightly before addressing Vivienne.

"Agent Bates, there's some basic information that didn't get copied over into your files. Do you mind…?"

"No. Yes, sir." Vivienne seemed a bit unfocused, but snapped back to attention.

"Age and birthday." Hotch said, his pen poised over a piece of paper.

"Twenty seven; February 6th."

Reid frowned. He wasn't the youngest member of team anymore; he was surprised. He then wondered why he was- Vivienne physically looked that age, but he had expected her to be older. Maybe it was in the way she carried herself.

He tuned out the rest of the conversation.

Focusing instead on other things, he stared out the window. The sky was clear, the sun shining brightly through the clouds. He would have preferred it rainy.

An overcast fall day was one of the things Reid loved, but instead he was stuck with bright, sunny spring. At least early April wasn't blisteringly hot in Quantico.

He pulled a pen and paper from his bag, intending to write a letter to his mother. Instead, he began doodling in the margins, unable to think of something he really wanted to share.

Only a bit of thought went into the drawings (he even had trouble calling them 'drawings'; the word implied meaning), and he absentmindedly added a shadow behind the hand of cards on his paper.

Soon, the paper was covered. Cards, a nondescript face, a tree, a rendition of the Sword of Excalibur, a strange and slightly elephant-like figure… Reid enjoyed letting his mind wander, his hand free of his brain's command. He could let his imagination flow, and the curious little things he sometimes envisioned could come out.

Pulling several more sheets of paper out, Reid began drawing another figure. This one was more cat-like, but it had no distinct shape. It didn't matter. When he let his mind go elsewhere, things didn't always have to be anatomically or scientifically correct.

It was for this reason that he didn't notice Vivienne glancing at him from the corner of her eye every few minutes.

Naturally, he jumped when she swiftly took the papers from him. He glanced at her with a slightly hurt expression; he didn't understand what she was doing.

Vivienne straightened the papers, making sure all the edges lined up perfectly. Then she handed them back, careful to keep them aligned.

She saw Reid's confusion, and her expression softened. "Sorry," she said, "they were bothering me."

"It's, um, it's fine," Reid said. His moment was gone; there was no more escape from the analytical part of his brain. He quickly shoved the papers back down into his bag.

Ignoring Vivienne's slightly concerned looks, he delved back into _War and Peace._ With the return of his usual mentality came his usual aversion to conversation or social interaction, with Vivienne or anyone else.

( )

Back at the BAU, the team filed in, eager to fill out their end of the paperwork and go home.

Reid sat at his desk and fiddled with a pen. It occurred to him that the majority of his time at his desk was spent doing just that. He spun around in his chair, observing the rest of the office. Morgan and Prentiss chatted as they filled out forms. Vivienne was sitting at her new desk, a small stack of forms and several others things cluttering it.

Watching curiously, Reid let himself smile as Vivienne straightened the files and papers, centered her computer, and peeked into her desk drawers.

He finished his paperwork quickly, as always, and leaned back, waiting for Hotch to announce that they could go home.

Finally, Hotch stuck his head out the door of his office. He emerged with his characteristic half-scowl.

"Good work today, everyone. Especially Agent Bates." he said, gesturing at Vivienne. "We don't have anything lined up for tomorrow yet, but be prepared." With that, he nodded, his signal that they were dismissed.

Morgan pulled his jacket from the back of his chair. Garcia had come out of her office at some point; Reid hadn't noticed. He glanced away when Morgan slung an arm around her. They laughed at something Reid hadn't caught.

"Hey, V," Morgan called. Vivienne glanced up. "We're headed out for a drink. Wanna join?" He gestured between himself, Garcia, and Prentiss.

Vivienne gave him her cool smile. "No, thanks."

Morgan chuckled. "Some other time."

Vivienne just raised her eyebrows and went back to putting on her jacket.

"You, Reid?"

Reid's eyes snapped up, and he saw Morgan was asking him. "Um, no, thanks, I'm just gonna, ah, head on home," he said, nodding.

"Suit yourself," Prentiss said, slinging her coat over her shoulder and giving Reid a smile.

They left together, smiling and talking as they walked out the door.

The room became very silent.

He struggled to think of something to say, but came up with nothing. He headed for the door, and held it open for Vivienne. She smiled up at him. "Thanks," she said softly.

They walked more or less side by side into the parking lot, until Vivienne veered off to a different row.

"See you tomorrow," Reid called. He wished he'd parked closer.

Vivienne turned over her shoulder briefly, smiling. She didn't reply.

Reid walked briskly the rest of the way to his car. He started it and let it warm up for a moment before pulling out of the lot.

The drive back to his apartment didn't take long, and Reid didn't hurry. He saw no need to endanger himself when he hated driving anyway.

His apartment was quiet and dark when he came in. He flipped on the light, and glanced around at the clean, but cluttered living room. Books were stacked on shelves, on the arms of furniture, and on tables. The eerie quiet and stillness bothered him every time he entered, but only for a few moments. He briefly thought that he ought to get a cat, and then banished the idea. Maybe a fish. Anything so that he wouldn't be the only living thing in the often lonely apartment.

Reid thought about digging through his refrigerator for something to resemble dinner, but decided against it. He was tired, and didn't feel like eating.

He tossed the messenger bag onto the counter, and the keys on the kitchen counter. The jangle of the keys hitting the countertop sounded odd, out of place in the silence. Sometimes, Reid hated living alone.

But he had grown accustomed to it. He had accepted it, and at times enjoyed it. This just happened not to be one of those times.

After changing his clothes, Reid settled into bed, pulling the blanket around him. A completely unbidden image of Vivienne next to him invaded his mind, and he shook it away, wondering why he had even thought of such a thing. The probability of it happening wasn't even worth contemplating.

Reid stared at the ceiling for several hours before he was able to fall asleep.

( )

**A/N: **_Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing! Someone had mentioned in a review that Reid usually goes by "Dr." and not "Agent", and I wanted to clear that up. I knew he did, but I wanted Vivienne to start out saying "Agent" because she wouldn't have known about his degrees. If anyone else called him Agent Reid, then that was just my oversight and I'll watch out for that. Anyway, thank you very much for the words of advice; sorry this chapter wasn't very exciting. Still, please review!_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The next morning, Reid was at the office before everyone but Hotch, as usual. After he had been there a few moments, Rossi trudged in, giving Reid a crooked smile as he passed. As he often was, Reid was struck by the resemblance in Rossi's off-center grin to Gideon's.

Reid avoided thinking about Gideon when possible. It wasn't that he was angry anymore, but he was still confused as to why the older man, who had been more like a father to him than anyone, had suddenly left. He understood the pressures of the BAU, but it still stung that the pattern in his life where he was continually left behind carried over into his career.

A noise behind him snapped him out of reverie, and he turned in his chair. Vivienne had sat down at her desk, and was organizing it again.

Reid smiled crookedly. "Morning," he said. Vivienne turned and smiled.

"Good morning," she replied, and then went back to desk. She had a small cardboard box on the floor, and began pulling things from it.

A framed picture that Reid couldn't make out went to the left of her computer. On the other side, close to the wall, went a delicate-looking vase that held some flowers. They weren't roses or any specific flower (though Reid probably could have identified them, given the time), but just wildflowers, pink and purple and yellow. Reid saw a few books, with titles he couldn't see, go into one of the drawers. A few other odds and ends later, and Vivienne shoved the box under her desk.

Reid didn't realize he'd been staring until she turned and stared back, folding her hands. She didn't look irritated, just a bit amused.

Reid's cheeks flamed as he spun back around. He really had to be more mindful of acting normally.

Turned as he was, he didn't see Vivienne blush, as well, when she turned back to her desk, her blue eyes sparkling.

( )

It was a relatively boring day at the BAU; no urgent new cases came in, and JJ was sifting through older case files, determining which one needed to the most attention. The rest of the team was stuck with mundane office duties.

Reid somewhat enjoyed filing, at least more than his team members did. Morgan griped most of the day.

"Come on, I'm dying in here!" he said. "Aren't there unsubs to catch; doors to kick down?"

Hotch stuck his head out of his office door, frowning slightly less than usual. "After this filing is done. But you can take a lunch break anytime," he added, after glancing at his watch.

"Thank you," Morgan huffed, standing up. "Anyone coming?" he asked the office.

As if on cue, Garcia bustled around the corner, coat in hand. "Of course, my love," she said, smiling up at Morgan.

Morgan grinned and touched her arm. Reid noticed the gesture, but was clueless as its meaning. Morgan and Garcia's relationship confused him.

Vivienne stood slowly, glancing at the rest of them nervously. "I'll go, if you don't mind…" she trailed off.

Morgan's grin widened. "Not at all, sweetheart," he said. Vivienne blushed a bit.

Reid noticed that, as well. In reality, he wasn't surprised that Vivienne would be attracted to Morgan; most women were. Garcia was a prime example.

"Reid?" Garcia was beaming at him.

"Oh. Um." He glanced over at Vivienne quickly; she was getting her jacket. "Sure."

Morgan shot him a glance. Reid felt very exposed, like Morgan could see why he wanted to go. Then Morgan grinned.

"Well, don't just stand there, kid." He joked. "We have hungry people here."

Vivienne cracked a smile at that, and they all headed out the door.

They piled into one of the BAU's SUVs, with Morgan driving and Garcia calling shotgun. Reid wound up crammed in back between Prentiss and Vivienne.

He didn't like it one bit.

Making himself as small possible, he folded his hands in his lap, avoiding turning either direction. When Morgan took a hard right, though, Vivienne slid across the seat, pressed against Reid. She quickly reached for the door and pulled herself back over.

"Hey, Morgan, wanna drive like you know how?" Prentiss griped.

"Hey, Emily, you know who doesn't drive like a little old lady?" Morgan asked, his eyes flicking the rearview mirror. He grinned, flashing white teeth. "This man."

Reid stole a glance at Vivienne. She was focused on the mirror. She must have seen Reid's glance, because she quickly turned away.

For the second time that day, Reid reminded himself to act like a normal human being. That included not staring at pretty women.

Reid turned back to the front, blushing madly. As he turned, he caught a very faint whiff of Vivienne's perfume- slightly sweet, but also fresh and a bit spicy. It reminded him of vanilla and spring rain, with a hint of cinnamon.

The heat in his face intensified, and Reid shook his head. Why couldn't he think straight? The things running through his mind were supposed to range from statistics to literature to obscure facts, not every observation he could make about Vivienne.

Thankfully, Morgan spoke. "What're we getting?"

Garcia spoke up. "Spicy food, anyone? I see a Mexican place up ahead."

Prentiss shrugged and nodded. Reid remained silent, knowing his answer was the least important to the group's decision. Vivienne leaned up to peer over Garcia's shoulder at the restaurant.

Reid desperately looked away, avoiding looking too hard at the way Vivienne's shirt shifted.

Unfortunately, Prentiss caught his frantic shift over to her side, and stifled a chuckle. He shot her a look that was a mix of desperation and menace.

Meanwhile, Vivienne was pointing at the restaurant. "It's very good," she was saying. "I've been there several times."

"Well, that's good enough for me," Morgan said, turning into the parking lot.

They were seated quickly, and Reid's heart jumped when Vivienne sat next to him. It took a moment to realize that she was between him and Morgan.

Again, Reid wondered why he was feeling this way. He certainly wasn't interested in Vivienne. Was he…?

"The sweet tea is amazing here," Vivienne was saying to him. He looked at her, surprised.

"Oh, um, really?"

Vivienne nodded, blue eyes shining.

"So, V, what food is good?" Morgan asked. Still smiling, Vivienne replied.

"I've only gotten one dish here. I can't bring myself to try anything else." She picked up a menu, and pointed to one entry, after grabbing a chip from the center of the table and loading it with salsa. "Arroz con Puerco. It's fantastic."

"What is it?" Prentiss asked. "I mean, I know rice and pork, but what's so good about it?"

Vivienne pointed to the description. "The pork is marinated in orange juice and beer. It doesn't sound good at first, but it's delicious."

"Beer? Count me in." Morgan said. Everyone at the table laughed; Reid cracked a smile. He had never really cared for beer.

Vivienne popped another chip into her mouth. "Be warned, though, the sauce with it is spicy. They tell you it's not, but it is."

"Oh, so should we stay away from it?" Garcia asked, wrinkling her nose.

Grinning, Vivienne answered. "Of course not. I'm just warning the less adventurous."

Morgan grinned at Vivienne. "Adventurous is my middle name, girl," he said. Reid felt there was another meaning there, and his ears heated at hearing it. He didn't want to hear it. Not about Vivienne.

The waitress came a few minutes later. Vivienne and Morgan ordered the same thing. Reid glanced at the menu, thinking that maybe he would branch out.

"Um, I'll have a quesadilla." So much for branching out.

The rest of the meal went by quickly. Reid tried his best to ignore the looks Morgan gave Vivienne, and analyze why his heart sank every time.

Piling into the car on the way back, Reid was stuck in the middle again. He crossed his arms, feeling at first like a pouty child, and then not caring.

Reflecting on lunch, he realized Vivienne hadn't returned any of the looks from Morgan. At best, she had given him a passive glance. It was probably just professionalism. She was still new to the team; she wouldn't want to risk being called out on flirting with coworkers.

Reid didn't try to tell himself she simply wasn't interested in Morgan. Even if she wasn't, it was safer to assume she was.

A quick turn brought him back to the present. He shook his head. Why did this have him so flustered?

As they pulled back into the BAU parking lot, Vivienne gave Reid a quick glance. He didn't notice, and they walked back into the building in silence.

( )

Vivienne sat at her desk, full from lunch. The food had been delicious. She was glad her coworkers had seemed to enjoy themselves.

As a general rule, Vivienne kept her guard up. Her emotions didn't come into play when she was with others, and that included getting too close to colleagues. Especially in this field.

She stole another glance over at Reid. There was something about him, something that made her want to throw caution to the wind. She couldn't quite identify what it was, but it unnerved her.

He was intelligent, and a little awkward. But in a way, Vivienne liked that. She had never liked men that were too cool, and certainly not unintelligent ones.

Reid took both to an extreme. He was nervous in social situations, awkward in talking to women, and absolutely brilliant.

Vivienne thought there was more to him than that, though. In the few days she'd observed the team, she thought that when it came to Reid, they were oblivious. They saw him as an intellectual tool; a resource of information. Vivienne saw something more.

She looked over at him again, watching the way he fiddled with things on his desk, and the way he seemed to see everything around him. His hair fell over his face, and he brushed it back absently. It was shoulder-length and a bit curly, and Vivienne thought that in combination with Reid's dark brown eyes, he was incredibly attractive. Not in the conventional sense, but there was something to be said for a genius who wore ties and Chuck Taylors.

Vivienne snapped herself back to attention. The last thing she needed was to be distracted by a man that was clueless in regards to women.

She convinced herself she wasn't attracted to him. He was just interesting; an academic equal. That had to be it. She'd known him for less than a week, and the only reason she was interested was that he was intelligent and fascinating.

Of course.

( )

Reid and the rest of the team were stuck with paperwork for most of the day; it wasn't until they were about to head home that JJ called them into the media room.

"Sorry, guys, but Chicago P.D. just called. They're connecting a string of murders, and they don't think it's gang related."

Hotch motioned for everyone to sit down. "How many?"

"Two, so far. A twenty-three year old grad student, and a forty year old mother of two." JJ grimaced.

"That's a pretty big age gap… Are they sure the murders are related?" Reid asked, frowning. The two women looked nothing alike; the student had been dark-haired and the mother blonde.

"Yes." JJ said, changing the slide. "Both women showed signs of sexual assault, and the same wounds were found on the victims."

There were two pictures, side by side, both of the women's abdomens. An X was carved across them, their navel at the center.

Vivienne leaned forward, squinting faintly. "It looks like a serrated knife of some kind; maybe a hunting knife. Not any kind of surgical instrument."

JJ nodded. "They died of blood loss and complications relating to their injuries. Both had duct tape over their mouths."

The slide changed again; it showed two faces with the mouths taped shut. Reid sat back.

"The tape says the unsub had little respect for the victims. He didn't want them to be heard. Some studies suggest that taping a victim's mouth shut reveals that the unsub doesn't want to the victims to be recognized; as if the tape prevents them from calling out for help or sharing their identities. It certainly says the unsub feels ignored, perhaps invisible." He said, trying to think of any case examples using tape.

Prentiss was nodding, agreeing with him. "What does the X have to do with it?"

"It could be a way of crossing them out. Like items on a list that have already been completed." Reid said absently.

"If he has a list, he'd probably not done," Rossi remarked.

Hotch stood. "Wheels up in thirty minutes."

( )

**A/N: **_Thanks for all the reviews and favorites! Sorry it took a little longer than planned. Please review!_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Resisting feeling sick, Reid poured over the crime scene photos. They were fascinating and terrifying; interesting and unspeakable.

Vivienne sat next to him on the jet, settling herself into the seat. It would be a short flight to Chicago, but they had a lot to discus in that time.

"Is there any known connection between the victims?" Hotch asked Garcia, who was on the webcam.

She twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger. "Actually, yes. They attended the same yoga class, and it appears they were casual acquaintances."

"Thank you. Keep looking for anything else, Garcia," Hotch ordered.

"Yes sir." Garcia signed off.

Vivienne gently tugged at the corner of one of the photos, telling Reid to turn it towards her. He obliged, for once not focused on her close proximity.

"The women were killed from blood loss from the cuts, but there was no blood at the scene. The unsub must have stayed to clean up after himself. He clearly had plenty of time and knew he wouldn't be interrupted." She said, letting Reid have the photo back.

"Which means he knew their schedules," Morgan said from across the table.

Vivienne nodded absently. She reached for another photo, the tips of her fingers brushing Reid's hand in the process. He started and glanced up, realizing how close she was. He caught a faint whiff of her perfume before she leaned away, holding another crime scene photo.

"The victim showed some signs of struggle, but not much. Perhaps they were drugged." She pointed to the victim's hands. "See? There's slight swelling and bruising around her fingers, meaning she was probably dragged and tried to stop herself. But there are no defensive wounds on her arms or legs, as if she gave up once the unsub dragged her to where she was killed."

Reid shook his head. "That seems unlikely without some kind of drug. Especially in the mother; she would feel compelled to protect her children."

"Where were the children when this happened?" Prentiss spoke up.

JJ answered. "They were at school. She was attacked mid-morning, approximately ten o'clock. She died at about one or two in the afternoon, and the two kids found her an hour and a half later."

Prentiss shook her head in disgust.

Reid looked intently at the photos, his head spinning slightly. He pinched the bridge of nose to prevent the onset of a headache.

"Reid, you okay?" Morgan asked.

He looked up. "Hmm? Yes, I'm fine."

Vivienne's eyes flicked to him briefly before going back to the photos. He regarded the glance with passive interest; he made himself tear his eyes away from her as she studied the photos.

"Where's the wedding ring?" Vivienne asked suddenly. She pointed to a picture of the older victim, who wore no jewelry.

JJ shrugged, and began looking through files. "There was no report of it being found."

Vivienne reached for another photo. She pulled it from the pile, this one a shot of the first, younger victim, and scanned it closely. Reid peered over her shoulder, not catching the slight smile on Morgan's face.

"There." Vivienne said. She pointed to the victim's right ring finger. "She had a slight tan line there. It looks like a class ring."

"How the hell can you see-" Morgan trailed off, taking the photo. "Damn." He glanced up. "I think she's right."

"So he takes trophies." Rossi said. Reid leaned back.

"Maybe he feels a connection to his victims," he mused, "or maybe he feels that these items are proof that his list is getting shorter."

( )

"Can we do anything to help you, Agent Hotchner?" A younger officer asked as they arrived at the police station.

"No, thank you." Hotch strode on by, ignoring the questioning glances from the other officers nearby. He moved directly to the center of the station, and shook hands with a man in a suit. "Detective Crosby."

"Thanks for getting here so quickly." Crosby replied. He was a thin, but fit looking man in his mid-thirties. His eyes were a cold, steely grey. Reid saw Vivienne frown from the corner of his eye, and glanced back at her.

The frown faded and was replaced by a tight smile as she shook Crosby's hand.

"We'll stay here and work victimology for tonight," Hotch was saying after introducing the team, "but we'll start early tomorrow and visit the crime scenes."

"Of course." Crosby replied. "Mandy Jones- the first victim- lived by herself in an apartment uptown, so that's still locked down. Candace Perrin's family lived in the suburbs, and we've asked that the family stay somewhere else until we can completely examine the scene." He gestured behind himself, pointing to the officers and computers. "Any help we provide, we'll be happy to do so." His smile was cold.

"Thank you." Hotch moved forward. Crosby showed them to the center of activity, where several officers were pinning photos and records to the wall.

Reid tucked his hair behind his ear absently and stepped forward. There were photos of some possible suspects; the boyfriend of the first victim and the husband of the second.

"These photos can be removed." Reid said, mostly to Hotch. "We're looking for one killer, and these two men didn't have a connection to the other woman." They had talked to Garcia again on the way about both men.

"Those men are still active suspects," Crosby said, frowning. Reid opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when Hotch shot him a look.

"Detective Crosby, we'll be profiling the murdered using proven methods developed in part by this team. We certainly aren't discrediting the work you and your men have done, but we'll take over from here. Thank you."

Crosby looked furious, and then instantly composed himself. Vivienne stepped up to the wall, examining the evidence.

The team assembled quickly, breaking up into teams and groups to efficiently work the case.

"We have every reason to believe this killer will strike again. There were three days in between the first two killings. That is a very short gap. We need to be alert." Hotch addressed them.

"Let's get to it," JJ said, picking up the phone. Vivienne and Reid turned back to the evidence board.

( )

The same time the next evening, they still had no leads. Both suspects had rock-solid alibis, and no new suspects had taken their place. Garcia had made little progress in connecting the victims with more than a very casual relationship; they knew each other from weekly activities. The only progress they had made was that both victims had been drugged; it turned out to be an over-the-counter nighttime cough syrup that had been injected.

"Hotch, we have nothing to go on," Morgan said.

"I know." Hotch stared at the desk he was sitting at, thinking.

Reid gazed over the evidence board. He'd been staring at it off and on for nearly twenty-four hours.

There had been no witnesses. No suspicious behavior reported. No fingerprints, even partial ones.

Vivienne was staring at the board just as intensely. "Maybe that's the pattern," she muttered to herself.

"What?" Morgan asked.

"Maybe the complete lack of evidence is part of the unsub's signature," Vivienne said, not bothering to turn. "He knows exactly what we'd be looking for. He knows what to avoid, and how to do it." She turned and lowered her voice. "We might be looking for a cop," she said.

Reid shook his head immediately. "No, the tape on victims' mouths and the drugging shows the unsub is unsure of himself; probably not very physically strong. A cop would be very unlikely to have either characteristic."

Vivienne put her hands on her hips. "There is no evidence. None. Not one hair, fingerprint, boot print, or even semen sample. These victims were raped. We should have one if not all of those pieces of evidence. The unsub had plenty of time and knowledge, as well as a very good cover. No one would report a cop for suspicious behavior."

"It doesn't fit the victims or the actual crime," Reid insisted.

Vivienne wasn't done. "On top of that, your insistence that a cop would be confident and physically fit- the former of which has little concrete basis- _does _fit the crime. The victims themselves are low-risk, wealthy women from affluent and peaceful neighborhoods. Forensically-" she shot Reid a glance- "there is no evidence to support claims that the unsub is weak. He gutted these women and raped them. It demonstrates a dominant personality, and the wounds show that each section of the X was made in one cut. It wasn't done piece by piece; it was ripped. The damage done shows that the knife-wielder was put a considerable amount of force into the cutting, but the end of each cut has an upward pull, as if the knife were being pulled up and out before the cut was finished. Our unsub is slender, but certainly not weak." Vivienne glanced at Hotch and Morgan, who were listening with interest, and then back to Reid, who had crossed his arms. "Can we not discount the only valid lead we have right now?"

Reid snapped back. "Can we not discount three doctorates and six years with the FBI? You have no proof!" He wished he could take it back as soon as he said it.

"Reid!" Morgan said, giving him a look.

"Reid, a word, please," Hotch said tightly at the same time.

Vivienne didn't look hurt or insulted, and only regarded Reid with icy blue eyes. "Have it your way, Dr. Reid," she said softly.

Reid didn't know why he had said such a thing. He had known it was rude and completely uncalled for, but it was out of his mouth before he had considered either.

"I- uh, I-" he stammered for something to say, maybe an apology, but Hotch was already leading him down the hall.

"Reid, what's gotten into you?" Hotch demanded when they were a considerable distance away. Reid peeked over Hotch's shoulder, and saw Morgan reach out and put a hand on Vivienne's crossed arms.

"I- I don't know," Reid replied weakly. "I don't know why I said that… I- I'm sorry."

"Get a hold of yourself," Hotch said. He moved to walk back to the team. Almost as an afterthought, he turned back to Reid. "You remember how it was for you."

This shook Reid. He had been the outcast when he first came to the BAU; in some ways, he still was. He was significantly younger, much more intelligent, and much less social. Vivienne seemed to be closest to him in all of those categories, and he blew her off. He wished he knew why she got him so flustered.

Slinking back to the team, Reid stared at the ground. He heard Hotch demand where Crosby was.

"He's not in," JJ replied. "Apparently, he doesn't spend much time at the station."

_The unsub had plenty of time…_ Vivienne's words popped into his head. Reid's mind raced as he tried to make sense of everything.

"Damn it!" Morgan cursed as he slammed down the phone. He regarded the rest of the team harshly. "We have another body."

( )

Abby Marshall. She was thirty-one years old, a natural brunette that dyed her hair red. She was a veterinarian who was obviously an animal lover. Her barking dogs, who had been left outside and apparently gotten hungry, alerted the neighbors.

"She's been dead at least eight hours," Vivienne concluded as she knelt beside the body. The brutally carved X was sewed back together with what looked like fishing line.

Reid felt sick. First, because Vivienne hadn't looked at him since his comment earlier, and second, because he felt responsible for the body at his feet. He should have known better than to discount any theory.

The woman's mouth had been taped shut, following the pattern. There was no blood on the floor where she was found, but there was some down the hall in her kitchen.

Vivienne waited until someone had photographed the body as it was, and then knelt back down and snipped open the stitches. She let out a deep breath when she exposed the contents.

"He completely gutted her," she said. She then composed herself, slipping back into the manner of a scientist. "Her stomach and most of her intestines are gone. They were cut out with the same tool used to cut open her abdomen."

A horrible smell was seeping from the body. Vivienne grimaced, and reached into the dead woman's eviscerated midsection.

"Not good," Vivienne mumbled as she brought out a clear Ziplock bag. She stood, moved to a nearby counter, and dumped out the contents of the bag. After pulling her gloves off and putting on a new pair, she sifted through the few items.

There was a letter that Reid struggled to see from where he was standing. He peered at it, squinting slightly. Vivienne handed the letter to Hotch, who took it gingerly with his own gloved hands. He sighed and looked down at his feet before reading it aloud.

_"Agents, there is nothing you can do. You cannot stop me, just like these women couldn't stop me. They deserved this; surely, you can see that. You will see it when you realize who they are. You would already see it if you knew who I am. Because you are so far behind, I'm leaving you a hint. Good luck catching up."_

"He sees it as a game. He wants to be chased." Prentiss surmised. "Sick bastard," she added quietly, glancing down at the remains of Abby Marshall.

"What did he leave?" Morgan asked, stepping towards Vivienne.

Vivienne didn't say a word, but simply handed Morgan the only other item in the bag.

It was a Chicago PD badge.

( )

**A/N: **_Updates may be a little slower than the first few chapters, but I'll try not to let it go too long with a new chapter. Please review!_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Reid tossed and turned in the hotel room bed. The guilt he felt for Abby Marshall's death was overwhelming.

If he had discounted his stupid pride, considered something than _facts _and _prior occurrences _for once, maybe she would still be alive.

He cursed his intellectual pride, his stubborn nature. He wasn't used to being disputed, and it set him on edge when he was.

Turning over a final time, Reid stared at the ceiling as he reflected on the case.

The unsub covered the victims' mouths with tape. He was silencing them; to protect his identity or theirs, the team wasn't sure.

The unsub drugged the victims, but only after he dragged them- violently, judging by the crime scene- to the place where he intended to kill them. That act obviously did not serve a practical purpose; it had to be symbolic.

The unsub raped and mutilated the victims. He was shaming them, stripping them of their security in their homes. The sexual component didn't seem to be out of a sadistic desire, but out of a malicious revenge-driven intent-

Reid sat upright, swung his legs off the bed, and hopped up towards the door. He didn't bother running through the other things the unsub did; when this occurred to him, it was enough. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and hurried out into the hall.

He hurried to get himself something to drink as he checked the time, debating on whether or not it was too late to call Garcia. It was almost midnight; he decided to go for it.

She answered after a few rings. _"Reid? Is everything alright?"_

"Yeah, Garcia, I'm fine, I just had a thought about the unsub, see, I figured something out. The reason he-"

_"Honey, I'm on the other line; make it quick."_

Reid paused. "Oh. Sorry. Who are you on the- Never mind."

_"Why are you coming to me with this, and not the rest of the team?" _Garcia questioned.

"The rest of the team is asleep."

_"Morgan's not."_

"How do you-" He quickly understood. "Oh."

_"Yeah."_

Reid squirmed. "Well, um, should I, uh, just call back in the morning? I guess looking for it tonight won't matter; this unsub kills during the day…"

_"Good call. Is that all you need?"_

"Yeah. Um, thanks, Garcia."

_"Night, genius."_

Reid hung up sheepishly. This was one of the reasons he didn't like communicating with others.

He headed towards the vending machine, craving coffee but knowing there wouldn't be any. He stopped when he heard someone moving around up ahead.

Vivienne was pacing back and forth in the hall. Reid approached slowly, not knowing if she was aware that he was there.

Apparently she was. "Can't sleep either, Dr. Reid?" She didn't even have to turn around.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"You just told me." She turned around to face him, and sighed. She gestured at his feet. "Your footsteps. Heavier than Emily's or JJ's, but lighter than Hotch's or Morgan's. Quicker than Rossi's."

Reid nodded, musing. He had heard people talk about being able to identify those they knew by the sound of their footsteps.

He quickly looked up. "I, um, I'm sorry… for what I said earlier. Uh, it was immature of me to discount your theory."

"My _correct _theory?" Vivienne asked, raising her eyebrows. Reid almost made another flippant comment, but then saw the slight smile at the corners of her mouth. He wanted to be irritated, but simply wasn't.

"I think I figured it out," he said. Vivienne didn't say anything, just gave him a look that told him to go on. "I, I think the unsub has some prior connection to the victims."

Vivienne looked at him as if he'd told her that her eyes were blue.

Reid shook his head. "I mean, I think the things he does to the victims, like the tape and the sexual assault and the cuts, it's not sadistic. It's revenge. Somehow, the unsub is connected to these victims, and he's trying to make them feel the same shame that he felt."

Excited, Vivienne nodded. "He gets no pleasure from the act of sex, it's from the knowing his victim is feeling the same things she made him feel," she said. "Where do the drugs come in?"

"I don't know," Reid admitted. "But I think that's the key. Usually drugs imply physical weakness or a necessity for compliance from the victim, but with the other components, both seem unlikely. It must have something to do with the original connection to the victims, some kind of ritualistic task the unsub has to complete."

Vivienne nodded more slowly. "I think we've established that the unsub is a cop. Or working some similar capacity." She said carefully.

Reid nodded.

"Can I tell you something? Something I don't think the rest of the team is ready to hear?"

"Yeah," Reid said quietly. He frowned. Vivienne looked concerned.

She glanced around, even though there was no around that could possibly hear. "I think it's Crosby."

Reid's jaw almost hit the floor. "Vivienne, you can't just jump to him without any evidence; he's the lead detective! Besides, there's a big difference between saying it could be any cop and saying it is the head of the Chicago PD!"

"I know, I know," Vivienne said, signaling to him to calm down. "I just… I just have a feeling about. There's something off," she insisted.

Reid shook his head. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said earlier, but I can't go along with this. There's no evidence, no concrete reasoning-"

"If I give you evidence, will you back me up?"

Straightening up slightly, Reid met Vivienne's hard gaze. "If you give us evidence, the whole team will back you up." He said. In an offhand way, he realized that he was quite a bit taller than Vivienne. He also noticed that her shirt was low-cut, and that her jacket wasn't buttoned all the way, and that he was very close to her.

Reid took a few frantic steps back and tried to compose himself. Vivienne watched him, no emotion or expression on her face.

Finally, she sighed. "I agree with you about the unsub. Talk to the rest of the team in the morning."

"O-okay." Reid stuttered.

She headed back down the hall, and then turned towards him again. "Did you go past Morgan's room? I could have sworn I heard someone talking."

( )

Reid twiddled his thumbs while Hotch addressed the station. He listened absently to Hotch presenting his theory of the unsub's shame. He must have zoned out, because suddenly everyone around him was moving and he had no idea why.

"Reid, come on!" Morgan shouted at him. Reid felt panic rise in his stomach, and hurried after the team.

Vivienne must have seen the confusion on his face, because she crossed the room and walked with him to the door. "There's been a 911 call. A woman said a man broke into her house and was trying to kill her. She locked herself in the bathroom."

Reid didn't say anything, but he knew they would not be finding anyone alive.

Vivienne's eyes told him she knew as well.

They took the quickest route, and arrived no more than five minutes after they had left. Vivienne was already out the car with her gun drawn before Reid even unbuckled his seatbelt.

Hotch and Morgan led the way, their guns trained on the door. Vivienne and Prentiss formed a second line behind them, with Rossi and Reid bringing up the rear. Rossi and Morgan cut around to either side of the house, a police officer trailing each of them. Reid took in the scene, his heart pounding quicker than usual.

Vivienne stepped up to the front lines with Hotch. He eyed her suspiciously, but then nodded and motioned at the door. She hurried to his left, nodding when she was ready.

Hotch slammed the door inward, and Vivienne moved through the entrance. Hotch, Prentiss, and Reid followed.

The house had a still, dead feeling to it. There was nothing alive there, and the whole team knew it.

The stench of blood didn't help.

Reid felt more creeping panic, and tried to control himself. Usually he was so impervious to the horror of a crime scene.

He glanced at Vivienne. Her expression was hard as she stalked through the house. Finally, the team met outside the bathroom.

Hotch radioed the men outside. "Clear," he said quietly.

The woman who called- her name was Dana Woodrow- was lying on the floor of her own bathroom, in a pool of her own blood.

( )

"Why did the MO change?" Prentiss asked.

Reid piped up. "Technically, it didn't, the unsub just didn't have time to clean up this time. The victim was still raped, stabbed, and her mouth duct taped. Nothing changed but the blood."

Prentiss gave him a look that said he answered a rhetorical question.

Vivienne stood stock-still, her head tilted. "Do you hear something?" She asked no one in particular.

Morgan straightened up and listened. He drew his gun and snuck to the next doorway, leading to the victim's bedroom. Reid followed behind Vivienne.

After peering into the room, Morgan stepped back and shook his head, mumbling something containing several expletives.

Vivienne advanced into the room, and Reid saw the hardness in her eyes break.

He moved behind her, looking into the room. There was blood on the floors and the door frame.

The source of the noise that only Vivienne and Morgan had heard- now identifiable as a quiet whimper- was curled on the floor.

A large dog, a stocky, short-haired shepherd of some kind, lay on the floor, staring up miserably. Its hind leg appeared to severely broken, and then was a stab wound in its side. A trickle blood ran down its face, passing over its swollen eye.

Vivienne moved closer slowly.

"Careful, V," Morgan said quietly.

Vivienne moved cautiously, and Reid heard her talking to the animal, soothing it. "Easy, it's alright," she whispered as she knelt down beside it. She held her hand out near the dog's muzzle, waiting for it to respond. Pitifully, it dropped its head onto Vivienne's knee.

She carefully stroked its head, talking to it softly. Turning back to Morgan, she cleared her throat before speaking.

"Call a vet. I don't want to move her." Vivienne stayed on the ground, and Reid remained against the doorway. Hotch replaced Morgan a moment later behind them.

"We need to consider this in our profile," Hotch said softly. Then he added, "There's a shelter in town. They'll find a good home once she sees a vet."

Reid was surprised that Hotch was being sensitive.

"No." Vivienne said stubbornly. Hotch raised his eyebrows; she bravely looked back and met his gaze. "I'll keep her."

Hotch nodded, uninterested in further discussion. Reid listened to Vivienne speaking softly, the words themselves undecipherable, but the tone soothing.

"What kind of sick person does this?" Vivienne asked softly.

Reid didn't have an answer, and just shook his head. Vivienne made no move to get up, the crime scene next door seemingly forgotten.

"Reid." Hotch made it sound like it wasn't the first time he had said it.

"Hmm?" Reid glanced up.

Scowling once again, Hotch gestured to back to the bathroom. "We need you."

"Right. Of course." Reid shook his head and headed back to Dana Woodrow's body. He didn't want to focus on this case anymore. Something about it was bothersome, and he had a bad feeling about it. Like something was going to go horribly, horribly wrong.

The woman had been stabbed multiple times- fourteen, Reid noted. He donned a pair of rubber gloves and leaned down, probing the edges of the wounds. Seeing bruising in several areas on the body, Reid pressed on the discoloration. Definitely well before the time of death.

A commotion began down the hall; Reid allowed himself to be distracted from the gore below him. He heard a raised voice, and then Detective Crosby marched down the hall. He stopped just short of Hotch, huffing angrily.

"Your SWAT members almost didn't let me in," Crosby remarked.

Hotch gave him a sidelong glance, and addressed him in an offhanded way. "Show them your credentials."

Crosby opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "I- I seem to have lost my badge."

This caught Reid's attention.

A man- he must be the vet- with two scrub-wearing interns behind him moved past the Hotch and the team. Reid heard a few quiet voices from the other room, and a moment later, Vivienne and the vet were carrying the dog out.

Reid noticed two things in the short amount of time in which they passed his field of vision.

First, Vivienne gave Crosby a harsh, accusatory glance, underlined with fear.

Second, when Crosby caught sight of the dog, anger and revulsion flickered at the corners of his eyes and mouth, and he subtly pressed himself against the opposite wall, shrinking away from the injured animal.

( )

**A/N: **_Sorry for the wait, please review! _


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